


drabbles

by tigriswolf



Series: Alternate Universe [260]
Category: Dark Angel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clones, Gen, Identity Issues, POV Second Person, Past Child Abuse, Regret, Twins, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-02 21:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 4,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of my Dark Angel drabbles currently posted at A03 will be moved here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Acting

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Acting  
> Disclaimer: Not my characters. Just for fun.  
> Warnings: none, really. Takes place sometime in season 2.  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 470  
> Point of view: second

You are what you are and you do not apologize for that. You do not make excuses or pretend otherwise; the face you present to the world, to the Jam Pony workers, to the strangers you pass on the street—it is a mask, yes. But to those who know what you are, what you used to be, what you used to do—you do not act for them.

You do not play the game she plays. You never hide what you are.

She is angry at you for that. And jealous.

And a little frightened.

You do not fit in a small box; you cannot be written off or shunted into a corner. She cannot plan for you or prepare for you, cannot predict what you will do.

You have power over her because of that, more than anyone else she knows. She pretends she isn't more, isn't better; you don't. She's tried to turn her back on the knowledge in her blood, tried to turn away from training and memories that haunt her sleep; you never have.

You are what you are and you will never apologize for that. You will not make excuses for something you did not cause, something you did not want, something you had no part in and could not help.

You are a predator, a soldier, a killer—bred, born, and raised. You are danger, a liar, an actor. You are the training in your blood, the pain in your past, the killing lust that wells up when you are angry or hurt. You are a panther disguised as a kitten, a hurricane hidden as a light spring rain.

You do not hide the predator within; the world does that for you, happily. You are beautiful, and beautiful people are written off easily.

You would have thought she'd really see you, since you never truly hide.

But ten years outside has dulled her. You are the best you've ever been.

And she never wonders how she always wins, though she should. She never pauses to think, to remember—she sees Ben, Manticore, her failures… but never _you_.

You won't bother to tell her. It'd be a waste of time, of breath. So you smile and smirk and do the expected. You are not hiding, not pretending, but they'll see what they want.

And if it gives you an advantage, well…

Max should know better. You are what you are and you will not apologize. You will not pretend to be anything else.

And if she's thrown off a little, if she feels a thrill of fear she can't explain—she's right to.

Too bad(for her) that she'll shake it off and go about her life.

She's forgotten to be 452. You've never forgotten to be 494.

Perhaps madness is inherent in your blood.


	2. I stood among them, but not of them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: I stood among them, but not of them  
> Fandom: “Dark Angel”  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Byron.  
> Warnings: AU for “Hello, Goodbye”  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PGish  
> Wordcount: 530  
> Point of view: third

Alec plays nice in jail until Max leaves him there to rot. He watches her stalk out, every inch the injured feline, so sure in herself. So sure she’s right about him.

She has so rarely been right about him, but after all these months of never being good enough, of being blamed for everything, he’s _done_. 

He didn’t kill Timothy Ryan. He’s never heard of Timothy Ryan. He wishes he did have a clue who the dude was, though, just so he had the satisfaction of tearing out the bastard’s throat for getting him in this mess.

 _You think I’m a cold-blooded killer_ , he muses, letting the officer shove him down the hall. _You think I could just take a life, just reach out and snap a neck_. He studies the officer for a moment, weighing the consequences.

If he does this, he can never come back. Max will probably try to hunt him down. He turns his head slightly, watching the pudgy man. Easy prey. So easy.

The cat in him purrs as he strikes. He’s tired of playing nice, of sheathing his claws and hiding his fangs. He’s tired of letting Max kick him around like she’s better. 

She’s not. She’s really not, and the next ordinary dies just as quick. Alec’s a predator, down to the deepest part of him. He’s a predator and he hasn’t truly hunted since Max burned Manticore to the ground like she was doing a _favor_ for all the poor bastards still trapped inside.

He snarls, tearing his way through a room full of screaming, crying ordinaries. Did the stupid bitch even _think_ before pushing that button? She should have _known_ how Renfro would react. 

Alec stands in the middle of his dead or dying prey, savoring the scent of blood. _Keep moving_ , the cat in him counsels. _Find new territory_. 

He stretches, shaking out his spine, and listens. Nothing moves. Nothing breathes. He grins and lightly walks out of the station.

Back in Manticore, no one ever told him what 493(Ben, brother, twin) did to earn him that six-month stay in Psy-Ops. He only ever learned that 493 had a defect. They wanted to be sure it wasn’t genetic.

Alec’s pretty sure he just beat Ben’s body-count. And now he should leave town. Let Max and White have each other. Get out and go somewhere warm, where he can just sit and soak in the sun. Take naps and not worry about ordinaries or Manticore breaking in, wanting him dead for simply existing.

 _South_ , the cat says. Alec checks both ways before crossing the street. Is there anything in this town he wants? Well, besides to kick the ever-living shit out of Max, and possibly tear her intestines out of her still-warm corpse for leaving him in jail, just writing him off without even listening, after all the favors he’s done her.

 _Nope_ , he thinks. _Not one damn thing in this crap-hole for me_.

The cat insists, _South. East. Warmth and light_.

So Alec heads southeast. Let Max and White have each other. He’s done. She thinks he’s a cold-blooded killer, and that’s the one thing she’s ever gotten right.


	3. Brittle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Brittle  
> Disclaimer: none of 'em are mine. I wrote this purely because I can.  
> Warnings: spoilers for everything  
> Pairings: nary a one  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 465  
> Point of view: third

There's something brittle in Alec's laugh, something Max is scared she never noticed before. Sometimes she looks at him and swears she sees Ben peering back from those hazel eyes.

Ben broke, somehow, shattered by the world and his own expectations, and now Alec's laugh sounds like Ben's, that final night atop the Needle.

She knows she's hard on him, harder than she's ever been on anyone else. He just annoys her so easily, prickles her defenses, and she knows no other way to be. Other people bend beneath her fury, realize instinctively that she can destroy them, even if they don't understand. But Alec — he just grins or smirks, and hits right back.

He attacks with words, too, and distantly, a part of her knows when their fists fly that he's holding back.

Always holding back.

And that scares her just as much as his brittle laugh.

She remembers Ben as a boy, the storyteller, the one who took frightened children away from their pain and gave them hope.

She remembers Ben as a man, tattered and shattered, begging anything for explanation and redemption, for relief from the crushing weight of despair.

She remembers how it felt to grip his neck in her hands and the grief that shot through her when he let her twist.

Max knows she needs to stop pushing. She knows on a deep, primal level — Alec's been patient with her. Extremely patient. Anyone else would have lashed back by now.

She's watched him fight. She's seen him kill.

Terminal City and all its citizens need them both alive and healthy to keep everyone safe. They can't be picking fights with each other, not with White and his cult so close. Not with the humans waiting for them to fall.

She has to stop harping on him and sniping at him, before he finally decides it's time to prove just how dangerous he is —

Because Alec is not Ben and will not let her kill him.

No matter how alike their laughter is.

He fights at her back, by her side, with her against all comers. She's given up trying to figure out what the angle is, what he really wants. Maybe he is a good man, after all. Maybe he's finally found a cause.

Maybe he's killing time, waiting for something, but she never ponders that route for long.

Mole tells them about the next mission they have to go on. Logan berates Alec for letting a transgenic kill a human that got in the way. Max isn't sure whose side to be on.

When Alec smiles, it's a hollow shell.

When Alec laughs, it's a brittle sound.

Max meets his eyes and isn't sure if it's Alec or Ben or someone entirely new looking back.


	4. come touch a copy of you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: come touch a copy of you  
> Fandom: Dark Angel  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: fluctuating tenses; future!fic  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 390  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Dark Angel, Max/Alec (friendship or more), "You don't know what you're talking about, Max"

_You don't know what you're talkin' about, Max_ , he'd said. Softly, almost gently, with a look in his eyes she'd never seen before, not on his face.

Maybe, it's that she never looked.

 _Tell me about Ben_ , he'd said, and she'd thought he was giving her a hard time. She was stressed, and annoyed at the world, and angry at White and humanity and all the people counting on her but not understanding that she wasn't perfect.

And Alec just let himself into her room and asked about the brother dead at her own hand.

So, yeah, she lashed out. Knew he could take it. He could always take it and bounce back, but then she mentioned Rachel and the fucking virus that still keeps her from Logan and when Alec almost killed her and Joshua.

And Alec just looked at her. Anger and sorrow and pain in his eyes, a split second, and then he closed off and he said, _You don't know what you're talkin' about, Max._

Which is always the case when it comes to him. From the moment he walked into her cell, to when he asked about his dead twin brother, she has never understood him.

He's different from her and everyone else in Terminal City, everyone she's ever met.

 _You don't know what you're talkin' about, Max_ , he said, and then, _Later, Maxie_ , as he let himself out of her room.

It was less than a minute before she took off after him, but he was gone, and that was three days ago. He's not in the City anymore, and she honestly doesn't know if he'll be back.

Everyone's angry at her for it, Mole and Joshua and Gem and everyone.

She's angry at herself.

She hopes he comes back. She'll tell him about Ben if he does, all the stories Ben used to make up, how warm and safe she felt with his words twining around her, how glad and heartbroken she was when he showed up in Seattle. Ben, who'd been the best of them, once upon a time, their dreamer and their dream, the brightest. The most broken.

 _Tell me about Ben_ , he'd said, wearing Ben's face, in that same voice Ben had said _when you wake up in the morning—_

She'll tell him, if he comes back.


	5. goodness is no name, and happiness no dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: goodness is no name, and happiness no dream  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Byron  
> Warnings: future!fic; if you infer what I've implied, sexual child abuse  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 165  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: bishonen

Alec knows that he's attractive. All X5s are; it was mixed in with cat and a dozen other things.

He was trained to use it, too. Maxie escaped before those lessons, so she really is without a clue. Instinct helped her, using her natural beauty to her advantage—life is a cruel teacher. Almost as cruel as Manticore.

But inside Terminal City? Dozens of animals caged together? You need more than instinct. More than can be taught on the streets. Max has personal charm, but she's no leader. She lacks foresight. And Alec… well, he's stealing Terminal City out from under her and she hasn't caught on yet. He learned everything Manticore taught, and he learned it well.

Maxie is strong, and she is brave, and she'll watch wide-eyed as he challenges her and drops all masks.

Alec is too pretty to be dangerous. Like a cat. And he grins at Maxie, showing all his teeth. He's been studying her.

He'll win.


	6. And wild for to hold, though I seem tame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: And wild for to hold, though I seem tame  
> Fandom: “Dark Angel”  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Wyatt the Elder.  
> Warnings: AU for season two  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 280  
> Point of view: third

494 snarls, pacing around in his cage. It had been so stupid, broadcasting that location. What did the bitch think would happen? A fairy tale, happily ever after for the little mutant freaks, the government soldiers? They were tools, nothing more, and once they became a burden—poof. Cauterized site and nothing else.

“Well, 494?” the government spook asks. Dark hair, dark eyes, cold voice and a gun in hand. “Will you follow orders or should I put you down where you stand?”

494 knows he could dodge the first bullet, and probably the second, but not all. He hates this bastard, but he hates 452 more. “I’ll do it,” he says.

The spook raises an eyebrow. 

494 growls low in his throat. “I’ll do it, sir,” he amends. 

The spook smirks. “Not that I don’t trust you,” he says, nodding to one of his goons. The floor of the cages drops out from under 494 and he falls two stories to the ground, bracing himself for the impact. He stays crouched down and glances up at the spook. “We’ll have to take precautions, of course. Make sure you don’t run off like a scared little kitty.” He leans over the rail, gun loose in his grip. “You understand.”

“Yes,” 494 grits out, staying still until ordered to move. “Sir.”

He’ll play the spook’s game, for now. He’ll find 452 and kill her. Then he’ll deal with this bastard, whatever precautions he takes. 494’s eyes track the ordinaries moving around, guns tight in their fingers. Weakness after weakness—he glances back to the spook, sauntering down the stairs. 

Too many guns to make a move now, but 494 can wait.


	7. untitled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: untitled   
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU for season one’s “Pollo Loco”  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 100  
> Point of view: third

Ben had forgotten how amazing it felt to fight an opponent equal to him. Not since Manticore, not since they all went their separate ways. And Maxie is good, damned good, but the Blue Lady waits for her sacrifice, so Ben quits pussyfooting around and goes in the for the kill.

Max’s eyes are wide as he closes in, and she gasps when his fingers grip her neck. She struggles valiantly, and he’ll make sure the Lady knows what a worthy opponent she was. 

“Ben,” she pleads, “Ben—”

The Lady needs a sacrifice. “Shh, Maxie,” he says. “Sleep now.”


	8. Smart Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Smart Girl  
> Fandom: Dark Angel  
> Disclaimer: Not my characters. Quotes are from “Hello, Goodbye”. Just for fun.  
> Warnings: AU; timeline—somewhen after “Hello, Goodbye”  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Wordcount: 462  
> Point of view: second

You were never too impressed with her brains. You’d expected something more after all the buildup—if she’d escaped once, shouldn’t she be one of the best? If she’d eluded capture for as long she had, shouldn’t she be clever, wise, _smart_?

Of course, she didn’t escape alone. There were others, like the leader who Manticore kept for parts and then turned into a cyborg that nearly killed you. And there was your twin, the insane serial killer.

She thought Manticore would let her escape again. She thought they didn’t know exactly what she was doing, that they weren’t watching every single move she made, counting every breath.

She thought you were on her side. She thought, after everything, that you would help her. She thought—ah, but she was fool.

It never seemed to occur to her that you went easy on her. That you let her confidence build, that you quietly and constantly added to her arrogance. That you had plans of your own.

Honestly, was it so hard to believe that an extra ten years of training, of brainwashing, of torture wouldn’t make you better than her? That your act ended the night the facility burned?

Or, better yet, that your act was entirely for Manticore at all?

The hardest thing you ever did was not ramming that knife into her eye. Not tearing open her throat or carving out her heart, not spilling her blood onto the ground.

White, at least, should have known better. Should have recognized a fellow actor, should have expected that something was up, wrong.

She trusted you. They all did, by the end. You think she might have even loved you a little. Fool. Only one time did you ever think she had potential, and then she proved you wrong.

Back when you were blamed for Benny-boy’s killings, she believed you’d done it. Believed that such horrendous leanings were in the blood you and your twin shared.

So you asked if she thought you really could kill someone so _coldly_ and she said, “Yes.”

You wanted to say, “Smart girl.” You didn’t, though. You just continued on with the act.

And her doe-eyes ask, _Why are you doing this?_

You smirk and don’t dignify her with a response.

You never were too impressed with her brains, but even a fool should understand about vengeance.

She killed your brother. You kill her. Simple math, such an easy equation.

She’d thought you were on her side. She died without knowing you could have been, once, except for his death.

And only once did you ever even consider telling her “Smart girl.”


	9. shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: shadows   
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: references to canon character death  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 115  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Dark Angel, Max +/ Alec (+Ben), she thought she was seeing a ghost

She stares at him sometimes, seeing her brother. She barely knew the man her brother became, only that he was... sick. Wrong. She killed him to save him, and it will always haunt her. 

_They wanted to see if it was genetic_ , Alec told her irreverently, before he was Alec. 

How much of Ben is in Alec? How much of a person is their experiences? She and Sam are nothing alike, are they? Had her siblings all stuck together that night, would they still be the same people they are now? Better? 

How well does she know Alec? Better than she knew Ben, and isn't that a chilling thought. 

"What's wrong?" Alec asks. 

She shrugs. "Nothing."


	10. journey into self

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: journey into self  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU  
> Pairings: slight Ben/Alec  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 350  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Alec/Ben AU, Even clones deserve a family

After failing on his first long-term, deep-cover mission, 494 chooses ( _chooses_ , a choice, _his_ choice, finally) not to return to Manticore. 

Instead, he travels southeast, away from woods and snow and The Mission, whatever that is. He goes to where it's warm almost year-round, where he can stop being a soldier (though he never once lets down his guard). 

Manticore is searching for him, of course. But he doesn't let himself stick-out. He blends. They trained him to disappear. 

Five months into his journey, he chooses (his own decision, and that will never get old) an old church for bedding down. He's always felt safe in churches, ever since he struck out on his own. He doesn't know why.

As he's settling into a corner far from the door, a place where he can see the whole sanctuary in one glance, a man walks in. He's young, and he moves like 494, and he smells like 494, and his eyes meet 494's through the darkness. 

"Hello," the identical stranger says. "She told me you'd be here."

"She?" 494 asks, preparing himself to move. 

His mirror holds up his hands. "I'm Ben," he says. "You should get a name too, if we're gonna be together now." 

"I'm doin' just fine on my own, thanks," he snarls, launching to his feet. 

Grinning, Ben moves to meet him. 

They fight to a standstill, until 494 backs away, watching warily as Ben mirrors his actions. 

"How about Alec?" he suggests. 494 cocks his head to the side, and Ben smiles. "It means defender."

494 licks his lips. "Why would I join you?" 

Ben steps in close and 494 lets him. "Why did you come here tonight?" he asks instead of answering. Ben slowly lifts a hand, touches 494's face. "Come with me," he whispers. "Brother. Otherself."

494 leans into the touch. "Okay," he murmurs. Choosing. 

Ben smiles. "Alec," he says. "She'll love you." His eyes flick past 494—Alec—and Alec turns his head to follow the gaze. 

It's a painting, of a dark-haired lady in a blue cloak, hands raised and palms toward the sky.


	11. untitled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: untitled  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: pre-series  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: G  
> Wordcount: 265  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Beauty and the Beast

_Tell us a story_ , they whisper. _Tell us a story to take us away. A happy ending, a prince in disguise, a beautiful horse and a never-ending sky. Tell us a story._

He tells of monsters and myths made up in the night, of heroes with swords and fire, chasing the darkness away, bringing about the dawn, lighting the world with hope, a future away from pain.

 _Tell us a story,_ they whisper. _Dream-keeper, hope-seeker, tell us a story. Give us life. Give us hope and escape._

 _There was a man_ , he says. _A man cursed by an evil doctor. He was transformed into a nomlie, ugly and horrific. They sent him to the basement and he never saw the sun again. He was there for years and years, screaming, crying, tortured by the doctors every day. They wanted to see how many different ways they could make him hurt._

 _But he escaped, right?_ they ask. _He gets away_.

 _Yes_ , he says. _One day, a little girl, just like us, she snuck down there. She was hiding, bleeding, crying. She heard him roaring in fury and pain, and she wasn’t afraid. She followed the sound ‘til she came to his cell, and then she waited for the doctors to leave._

 _And then,_ they ask, _and then? What happens?_

He pauses, looks around. Dawn is coming, soon, and they haven’t slept at all. _Tomorrow night_ , he says. _I’ll finish the story. But we have to get some rest._

He smiles, meeting each of their eyes. _Tomorrow night, in freedom, beneath star-filled sky, I’ll tell you the end._


	12. no escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: no escape  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: spoilers for season 2  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 160  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Alec/Ben (in Alec's head), Ben talking to him during his stay in jail during Hello, Goodbye.

_You're a hunter,_ Ben tells him. _A predator_.

"Shut up," Alec mutters, arms tight around himself. 

_We can leave_ , Ben cajoles. _So easily. They can't stop us_.

Alec tried covering his ears hours ago. He tried singing, tried meditating, tried picking fights so the guards would beat him and he could focus on that instead. No dice. Nothing worked. 

Ben is in his head. Alec knows he didn't kill Timothy Ryan, and he knows Ben went crazy, and he also knows that they have DNA evidence the murder is on his hands. 

Alec's no fool. 

_They're weak_ , Ben purrs, and Alec glances towards the door. He can hear them on the other side, sloppy and slow. _Get out of this cage, brother_.

It would be so easy. 

“No,” he whispers, hunching over. “I’m not a killer anymore.” 

_We’re predators, Alec_ , Ben murmurs, and Alec can see the smirk on that identical face. _We’ll always be killers. It’s in our blood._


	13. Brittle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Brittle  
> Fandom: “Dark Angel”  
> Disclaimer: none of ‘em are mine. I wrote this purely because I can.  
> Warnings: spoilers for everything  
> Pairings: nary a one  
> Rating: PG13  
> Wordcount: 460  
> Point of view: third:

There’s something brittle in Alec’s laugh, something Max is scared she never noticed before. Sometimes she looks at him and swears she sees Ben peering back from those hazel eyes.

Ben broke, somehow, shattered by the world and his own expectations, and now Alec’s laugh sounds like Ben’s, that final night atop the Needle.

.

She knows she’s hard on him, harder than she’s ever been on anyone else. He just annoys her so easily, prickles her defenses, and she knows no other way to be. Other people bend beneath her fury, realize instinctively that she can destroy them, even if they don’t understand. But Alec—he just grins or smirks, and hits right back.

He attacks with words, too, and distantly, a part of her knows when their fists fly that he’s holding back.

Always holding back.

And that scares her just as much as his brittle laugh.

.

She remembers Ben as a boy, the storyteller, the one who took frightened children away from their pain and gave them hope.

She remembers Ben as a man, tattered and shattered, begging anything for explanation and redemption, for relief from the crushing weight of despair.

She remembers how it felt to grip his neck in her hands and the grief that shot through her when he let her _twist_.

.

Max knows she needs to stop pushing. She knows on a deep, primal level—Alec’s been patient with her. Extremely patient. Anyone else would have lashed back by now.

She’s watched him fight. She’s seen him kill. 

Terminal City and all its citizens need them both alive and healthy to keep everyone safe. They can’t be picking fights with each other, not with White and his cult so close. Not with the humans waiting for them to fall.

She has to stop harping on him and sniping at him, before he finally decides it’s time to prove just how dangerous he is—

Because Alec is not Ben and will not let her kill him.

No matter how alike their laughter is.

.

He fights at her back, by her side, with her against all comers. She’s given up trying to figure out what the angle is, what he really wants. Maybe he is a good man, after all. Maybe he’s finally found a cause. 

Maybe he’s killing time, waiting for something, but she never ponders that route for long.

.

Mole tells them about the next mission they have to go on. Logan berates Alec for letting a transgenic kill a human that got in the way. Max isn’t sure whose side to be on.

When Alec smiles, it’s a hollow shell.

When Alec laughs, it’s a brittle sound.

Max meets his eyes and isn’t sure if it’s Alec or Ben or someone entirely new looking back.


End file.
